I'll Make A Man Out Of You
by TobiasHawk1
Summary: Pyrrha's been training Jaune every day, but for WHAT remains to be seen. Arkos fic, heavy domination. R&R, I hope you enjoy, and remember, Zone-tan watches you fap. *cover by Tumblr user the-stray-liger*
1. Chapter 1

It'd started with training. She was kind, patient, and skilled. Her calloused hands pushed against his hips, tucking them below his spine as he finished the final blow with Crocea Mors; a powerful jab she'd come to appreciate.

The sweat ran down from his forehead to his cheeks and jaws, then dripped off his chin to the gravel below. Some pooled in the pits of his shoulder muscles, while even more dripped down his chest and stomach, following the lines that were just beginning to etch themselves beneath his skin. He was panting, tired from a late training session the night before, classes, the gym, homework, and training again.

She insisted that he train with his shirt off. "I need to see where your muscles are flexing. It's not just about the movement, but about the power." That's what she'd been taught, but the words seemed hollow. Almost as if she didn't actually believe them. No, she had an ulterior she wouldn't even admit to herself in her most vulnerable of dreams.

"Chin up, Jaune. Concentrate. The sword is an extension of your arm. You're not just swinging it… you're carving the air with your intent!"

He smiled, performing the movements yet again. He was determined to get it right! She respected him for it. Gone was the Jaune that tried to train in solitude out of preconceived notions of machismo. This man was hers to control, a force of bountiful, directionless Aura that screamed to be molded by experienced hands. She relished the challenge.

Four more times he performed the carefully choreographed movements until she was satisfied. The intent was there. It was strong, powerful, and deadly- but would it falter?

"That's prefect, Jaune! Now you can do it against me." The redhead slipped off her hoodie, leaving it a pile of cloth on the floor. She was wearing only her inner layer of battle armor. Neglected was the riveted metal or leather piece that shaped her so well- Jaune could never tell what material it was made out of and never had the gall to ask. The vambrace, greaves, cuisses and heels were gone as well, exchanged for bare skin and comfortable sneakers. Her diadem still ornamented her head as always, framing her face as beautifully as clouds did a rainbow.

Using her semblance to summon Miló from its resting position on the ground near Akúō, she snatched it from the air with the finesse of a seamstress simply stitching a sock.

With a flick of her wrist, it became the short-sword she preferred in close-quarter combat. She raised it to Jaune, showing him the respect a teacher would a student.

"You're going to do the same thing. Faster. Harder. With more intent. Understand, Jaune?"

The poor blond already looked uncomfortable, eyes darting from Pyrrha's, to her weapon, to his own sword and back again.

"Um, yeah. O-okay. Just block, okay?"

She sighed internally. He'd have to learn eventually, and she'd held her patience for this kind of passivity long enough. A new lesson must be taught and, more importantly, **learned**.

The exercise was a routine with ten varying strikes, two parries and a forearm bash interspersed within the flow of the sword. It took him a day to memorize the moves without forgetting a step, and tonight to learn to execute them properly.

He tightened his hand around the grip of the sword, flexing a variety of muscles that nearly attracted her eyes. She looked into his blue irises with a piercing stare, ready to teach what subtlety had not.

He began his first strike, a slash meant to test his adversary without exposing himself more than what was absolutely necessary. He hesitated.

With a slight shift to the left, she easily dodged the blade. He followed through, reflexes still not fast enough to stop his momentum. Pyrrha stripped him of his weapon with a flick of her wrist, and with a leg maliciously placed in the path of his leading foot, she tripped him. As he fell forward, she grabbed him by his hood, pulling him towards her. She could see the look of gratitude on his face and nearly felt pity for him as she slammed him on his back on the gravel. She pointed both their weapons at his face sternly.

In school, Pyrrha was considered a nice girl. She detested bullies and loved appeasing her friends. But this rooftop was not school. It was a gladiator pit. It was the fire that had shaped her into the warrior she was today, and she would spare Jaune none of the blood, sweat and tears he'd cheated his way past when he applied to Beacon.

"Again."


	2. Chapter 2

He was flirting with Weiss. Again. Pyrrha'd been used to it, of course, but ever since their talk about his being at Beacon, it'd always come with some sting to it.

Was Weiss the one who he'd trusted with his secret?

Was Weiss the one with whom he trained every night?

She'd caught herself styling hair hair in the asymmetric ponytail that so defined the heiress in the bathroom. With a remark of disgust, she put the brush down. No. He'd come to her as she was.

For a while, she'd felt threatened by her. Not in the petty way some girls would feel, but in a more relevant way. With his attention centered so much on her, how could he clear his mind while they practiced?

Today, however, as she turned him down yet again, the Mistrali came to a realization. A momentary epiphany, if one so chose to define it as such. She scribbled the thought away in her notebook for later rumination.

.

"Jaune. It's been a week! Strike me or I'm going to hurt you!" Pyrrha spat her threat- no, her promise- with a snarl.

"Pyrrha, I'm /trying/! You're not making this easy-"

"You think this is supposed to be easy? Do you think the Deathstalkers will just kill themselves? The Nevermore will just drop from the sky?"

"Pyrrha, I don't want to hurt you!"

She struck, slamming the flat of her blade against his ribs with enough force to dent a car door. He flinched in pain. His Aura was great and he was getting better at using it, but he could still feel the lethality with which she swung her blade. He looked betrayed and confused, to say the least. Never once had she struck him out of anger. Technically, she still had not.

"Jaune. Stop treating me as if I were some helpless dame! Now /strike me/!"

Slash. Stab. Swipe. Parry!

She glared at him as their weapons shook. He was strong- so much strength gathered in those biceps and triceps and- Swipe. Jab. A powerful overhead attack that had never been a threat until now. Second parry! She'd nearly slipped her cool steel between his defenses. Sparks flew as they held the stance for a second that embodied eternity. Swipe. Backhand swipe. Slash. Forearm bash!

He struck her in the chest. She hadn't been expecting it. They had never actually gotten so far in a single exercise without stopping and the existence of the forearm bash had slipped her mind for the briefest of moments. Had it been an actual fight, she would've grabbed the arm and dislocated his shoulder before the blow landed, but, as it were, she'd been expecting to block the final jab.

Jaune saw the surprise in her emerald eyes, and for the quickest of heartbeats, he hesitated with the final attack. It was a finishing jab to the exact center of the chest that would incapacitate anyone not wearing armor. The tip of his blade angled slightly, shooting towards her shoulder.

She didn't even have time to sigh.

With a flurry of limbs, he was back on the ground, for what must've been the thousandth time that week, disarmed and defeated.

"… again."


	3. Chapter 3

He sipped a juice box as they walked up the steps. Schnee's Green Apple, or some flavor similar.

"How do you fill up on such little juice?" She was curious. He was a hair shorter than her, but they were both fairly tall individuals. She'd gone through six juice boxes within an hour before she decided that they no longer suited someone of her stature.

"Oh, I don't. That's what the water's for." He swung the gallon of water she required of him each night into view.

"So then why the juice at all, Jaune? That's an extra… sixty calories." She read the label off the back. Sometimes the boy didn't really make sense.

"It… it tastes good. I love Schnee's." He sipped the last of the drink through his straw and continued sipping, making a ridiculous slurping sound.

A pup piloting the body of a wolf. That was the best she could describe it. A pup with all the potential and drive and motivation to learn, but still young, inexperienced and playful. And naive.

She shook her head as she opened the door to the roof for the pair. He stripped himself of his school uniform. Tie, blazer, button-up, a crew-neck white t-shirt that was looking smaller on him every day. He left them in a neatly folded pile on the floor as he assumed his weapon. He'd expected her to produce her own, but she gave him pause as she stripped out of the bronze v-neck she wore for support as well as protection. With a quick tug, it was up over her head, crumpled cloth on the ground. Wearing nothing more than the bindings which supported her breasts and the A-line miniskirt that was meant to accentuate more than protect, she took her position in front of Jaune.

She flexed her yearning muscles- they'd sat through lecture after lecture today and she was itching for some training. Abs that Jaune aspired to himself rippled in the night air as they performed the most rudimentary of stretches. He watched her, but his gaze lacked anything but harmless curiosity. It lacked in the very intent he lacked with her as they sparred. Another epiphany descended upon her. Tonight would be the night.

"Same thing. And we're not leaving this roof until you get it right, Jaune. I'll stay here another week if I have to."

He could tell she meant it.

"Okay, Pyrrha. I've got it this time."

Slash- she dropped him onto his seat with a quick shove. Still unprepared. She offered her hand and he took it rising, sheepishly to his feet.

Slash. Stab. Swipe. Parry. His chest shuddered with the strain. Swipe. Jab. Overhead- she dropped him. He'd prepared his strike relatively quickly, but to someone of her degree of skill, it was altogether a moment too slow. With a rare smile reassuring him, she helped him back to his feet. She could tell these strikes were different. She could feel every inch of him through their steel.

Slash. Stab. Swipe. Parry. Swipe. Jab. Overhead. Parry. Swipe. Backhand. Slash. Forearm bash. She let the strike collide against her chest. He'd expected her to block of course, but she'd allowed it to strike her, expecting Jaune to forfeit his next move.

The blonde surprised her. _He'd _been expecting her to take the strike, and with a loud yell he pierced the night air with his weapon.

She looked down, the tip of his blade pushing just past the defenses her Aura afforded. Glancing back up, he looked concerned. She smiled, suddenly all too proud for her protégé. "Again."


	4. Chapter 4

Another week past and they'd moved on. He was quickly improving now that he'd finally understood the nature of their training. He was getting faster. Stronger. More experienced every day.

She sat on his back, sipping from a juice box as he did his push-ups. He could make it to twenty on most days. She made certain she'd had a big lunch and pushed him to twenty-five before he collapsed. He performed his squats as she clung to his back, arms loosely wrapped around his neck, legs tucked around his waist. Occasionally a hand would drift down, clutching at his chest. "I'm steadying myself," she'd say. The warmth that would've betrayed her words to a more experienced man was simply ignored by the blond. His sit-ups he performed suspended, calves over Pyrrha's shoulders as she stood. She made sure to keep eye contact.

He'd caught her eye before, but now, shoulders widened, muscles ripping from strain, blonde hair clinging to his forehead in loose, wet curls… She'd crafted the beginnings of an Adonis from fine clay. And she'd be damned if she wouldn't have him.

But always after Weiss. Bountiful attention entirely aimed at the wrong person. She giggled as Weiss's apparent crush on Neptune reared itself. He'd be crushed, surely, and she did pity the poor boy but maybe- just maybe…

"We can go catch a movie!" If he could catch anything but a cold he'd catch the disinterest she regarded him with. He didn't _mean_ to be so aggravating to her, she knew. However the confidence he was trying to portray was misread all too easily as desperation.

Finally, she understood. Tonight. Tonight would be the night.

She waited for him as the sun set over Beacon. His footsteps crunched heavily on the gravel he trod upon. "Hi, Pyrrha. Where've you been all day? I haven't seen you since classes ended…"

"I did my homework up here. It's a bit more relaxing."

"Oh. Ready?"

"Yes. However we'll be doing something different today. Stretch quickly." She waited as he stripped. Tie. Blazer. Button-up. T-shirt. He reached for his toes. He stretched an arm over his chest, then the other. She licked her lips hungrily as she stripped, herself. Down to the miniskirt and bindings.

Finally he unsheathed Corcea Mors, gripping the heirloom tightly. She thought for a moment before grabbing her vambrace, slipping it back over her left forearm. She most likely wouldn't need it, but he had surprised her at least twice yesterday. She left her weapons on the ground.

"Attack me," she commanded, taking a stance. "No stopping until we're done."

"Okay…"

Her reflexes were sharp, slapping the blade out of the air and maneuvering it as it neared her. Even unarmed, she was more than a match for him, but he _was _improving.

"So how's Weiss?" She asked with an air all too juxtaposed for their current activity.

"Huh?" He looked confused, almost stopping his latest swing. She glared at him until he continued.

"What do you mean, Pyrrha?"

"How is she? Are you still fond of her?"

"Um… yeah. I like her… I'm gonna try and ask her to the Beacon Dance…"

"Oh? She's shown interest in you?" She knew the answer, of course, but she'd ask anyway.

"Well… no. But I think that if I ask her-"

"She'll say no." She nudged the next strike away with a little more effort than was absolutely needed.

"Maybe if I-"

"She's going with Neptune." The readied strike never came and she watch his face fall.

"Oh…"

"Don't stop!"

"Right… sorry." His strikes were a lot more sloppy now. The intent was gone. She'd stripped him of his motivation. Next would go his anger.

"I don't blame her. He's a pretty attractive guy. I would ask him myself, but I don't really know him…"

He was so distracted, she could've landed a three fatal strikes in between each of his own careless ones. She waited, wanting to break him down further. This was vital, and needed to be treated reverently, however she couldn't help but let a bit of the sting she'd bottled up for the past few weeks escape past her lips.

"Tall. Handsome. Nice, tan skin. Bright, blue eyes-"

"I have blue eyes!"

She dodged his next swipe and punched his shoulder, his Aura barely dulling the blow.

"Funny. Charming. So confident!"

"I-I'm confident!"

Another punch, this time aimed at his gut, and she could see in his eyes, the war he was waging between anger and sadness.

"He's the perfect guy, honestly. I should've asked him… hmm, maybe I still can? I doubt either of them would mind."

He bellowed- a deep, primal sound from some part of him she'd finally managed to reach. He swung Crocea Mors with every intent to land a strike on her, and each strike missed her by almost a full foot.

The tears were streaming down his face now, but he kept attacking, rage hardly masking his pain. She was two steps ahead of him every strike for nearly two minutes. She let him expend the childish emotion until he slipped and fell to his knees.

He looked up at her, defeated and broken like no physical wound could cause. "I tried…"

She bent down, taking a knee as she placed a finger beneath his chin, lifting his face to meet her eyes. She watched his chest rise and fall, sore muscles rippling. "You failed. It happens. Move on."

"But… if I c-can't even convince Weiss… what good am I?" He sighed, the tears were gone, replaced by a look of solemn defeat.

Now was the time to rebuild him. She'd knocked down the old bricks and misplaced concrete and dug up the rotten foundation. Now it was time to build him anew. "You're as good as you believe yourself to be."

"You sound like my mom…"

"Maybe she was right?"

"But… Weiss…"

"There're other women in this world besides Weiss Schnee." She nearly spat the scorn.

"Like who?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks so much for all of these great reviews, guys. This was the fastest I've racked up so many. So you guys, this is the last chapter. Post as many reviews as you can, I greatly enjoy them. And to that reviewer who wanted to know why this has an M rating? This is why XD**

She picked him up by his belt buckle, bringing him to his feet. She was so very tired of these guessing games. She was so tired of his naïveté and his obsession with the heiress who'd so blatantly denied him left and right. After months of daily practice, she'd show him just how much more deserve she was of him than _Weiss_.

She shoved him roughly against the wall, the weathered bricks scraping at his naked back. With a flick of her wrist, the belt flew away from him. His eyes were wide with confusion. Even **now** of all times he was still the same directionless clay in need of a goal. She'd give him one.

She pulled his pants down, smirking as he tried to cling to them. His underwear tore off his body like old rags. He tried to cover himself up, but she slapped his hands away, taking hold of him.

With an unwavering gaze into his deep blue eyes, she slowly ran her hand up and down his length. She was impressed, to say the least, but she wouldn't convey that to him. At least, not until she got what she wanted. His face was red, hands braced against the brick wall as he tried to steady himself.

She might've been green to the experience- such extensive training at such a young age forced her to limit her interactions with friends- attractive ones in particular. However that didn't deter her from letting instinct take its course.

She let go for a second, spitting in her palm to continue. He shuddered even more now, hips pressed against the wall as if he were trying to refrain from bucking deeper into her hand.

"Jaune. Relax. This won't be nearly as enjoyable if you're holding your breath the whole time."

"S-sorry… I've never-"

"Shh… neither have I. Doesn't mean I won't be good." She stroked him at a steady pace, biting her lip as she watched his chest rise and fall, his hips buck ever so softly towards her. She was curious how big he actually was, it seemed to take forever to get from the tip to the base and back again. She imagined his broad hands pushing her down, wordlessly demanding her to please him with her mouth. One hand at her throat as he marked her neck with his teeth, his hips bucking against her as she squeezed him with her thighs, toes curled tight.

She'd mold him into that man if it killed her. But he was a student who learned by watching. By **doing.**

With a final stroke, she released him, teasing her fingertips over the head of his member. He was breathing heavily, face red with want. "P-Pyrrah…"

"Be a gentleman, Jaune. Ladies first."

"R-Really?" His eyes lit up and she had to stop herself from smiling. She leaned against the wall as Jaune kissed her. Sloppy and inexperienced, it was still sweet. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging him whenever his kiss got too out of hand, petting him the more he got it right. He learned quickly, nibbling at her bottom lip, nearly making her melt in his arms. She held her posture though, she was not yet ready to give him the reigns.

Slowly, she pushed him down by his shoulders, shivering as he kissed a trail down her chest and stomach. Taking hold of him by his dandelion mop of hair, she directed him towards the crook of her thighs. He slowly lifted her skirt up before looking up into her emerald eyes. She pulled him in, lips against lips and watched him take his first few tentative licks. Shivering, she pushed and pulled his head, directing him to the most sensitive of spots.

"It's called a clitoris and it's right _here_- holy Dust…" She gasped, hips shaking as she held him close, not allowing him a moment to pull away. "Deeper. Deeper. To the left. _Your_ left. A little m-ooooh." She whined as he found her g-spot with his fingers, licking at the small bundle of her clitoris gently with the flat of his tongue. "Don't stop licking! I don't care if you get lockjaw!"

She kept him down there long enough she could've sworn he'd grown gills. He suckled at her warmth, dousing the heat that's grown so irritating with his tongue. She moaned into the night sky, riding his face. He swirled his fingers, licked at her bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, slowly driving her mad as she bucked against him.

"Oh, dust Jaune… Jaune~" She moaned his name one last time, ecstasy running down his mouth and chin as she finished. Even after she released his straw hair, the poor boy kept **going** still not yet having understood what he'd done. She didn't mind. She'd let him bring her over that peak. Again.


End file.
